Not Even Death
by silvereyedbitch
Summary: For the holidays. The story picks up about 8 weeks after the crappy part of CoS where Gerald is killed by Andrys and the Patriarch kills himself. There was no meeting on Black Ridge Pass. Damien is depressed and is attending a holiday party in Jaggonath at the start. Warning: Emotional Angst, M/M.


Disclaimer: Don't own these CFT characters. Still wish I did, though.

Summary/Timeline: The story picks up about 8 weeks after the crappy part of CoS where Gerald is killed by Andrys and the Patriarch kills himself. There was no meeting on Black Ridge Pass. Damien is depressed and is attending a holiday party in Jaggonath at the start. Have I said lately how much I hate that little prick Andrys? Whatever. Let's do this.

Warning: Emotional Angst, M/M. This one's for you Hobgoblin!

Not Even Death

He smiled. But it did not reach his eyes. He laughed. But it was not true laughter. He lived. But this was not living. Damien Vryce existed. And that was all. He couldn't bring himself up to the level of those still happy, those still able to continue their lives without the crushing burden of knowing that everything they had ever wanted had been swept away in the ashes of a single night. He was jealous of them, though they would never know it, so fine were his skills at deception. _I had a good teacher_, he thought fondly, sadly. All who knew him recognized that he had been changed by the events following Calesta's downfall and the Patriarch's sacrifice. And so they attributed his newfound introspection and solitary mannerisms to be the result of the spiritual trauma endured. After all, they all knew he had had to travel with the most hated and evil being Erna had ever birthed. And that was sure to change even the stoutest of men wasn't it? _They have no idea_, he thought darkly.

He made his farewells to the remainder of the guests at Ciani's Winterfest party. A social highlight of the year, Winterfest was a time for family and merriment. Gifts were oftentimes exchanged between lovers to represent the gifting of another year together. The tale behind the holiday was Earth-based, though, and lost to time. Some say it was the birthing time of a great man from Earth's history; others say it was to celebrate the renewal of life to come in the spring. Most simply didn't care. They only enjoyed the holiday for what it was now: a time of friends and family, feasting and love, hope and renewal… Damien felt tears freezing to his face as he made his solitary way toward the city's outskirts in the fading afternoon light. It took almost an hour to reach, and he continued on after the last house and into the dropping temperature. He enjoyed the cold, though, and the memories that came to surround him with it. It helped to numb him to the rising despair that had been creeping over his soul of late. The road immediately outside of the city had a small path that led off to one side after a mile or so. He turned there and made his lonely way toward his goal.

The sun was beginning to set as he came to his destination, casting long shadows everywhere. There was a small grove of trees that lined the cemetery as though standing eternal guard over their charges. It was old, probably from the first settlers of Jaggonath. The words on the headstones were worn so smooth the inscriptions were no longer legible. There were only perhaps sixty buried here. It was an unkempt burial ground in that it had been allowed to grow wild, and no one had been to visit besides Damien in so long that the path almost disappeared before making it all the way in to the clearing. But even so, Damien thought it beautiful. And so, when he had snuck behind the church's lines and gathered ashes from the pyre at the resurrected Merentha castle, this is where he chose to place them. He looked out over his private mourning place as he walked through, appreciating the silent snow that fell, creating a beautiful, sparkling blanket across the length of it.

When he came to the newest headstone, he stopped and gazed down. _Gerald Hunter_, it read, because he had known better than to place the name Tarrant upon it. He reached out and touched the smooth numarble. So cold and hard. _Like touching _him, Damien thought as he remembered the feel of Tarrant's chill, unyielding flesh. _Has it really only been eight weeks?_ He felt so old now, so worn. What was there for him in the world anymore? _Why didn't I say something?!_ he raged. But he knew why, and he had had this argument with himself several times over the last few weeks. He couldn't have fought the adept's Working that forced him to leave even had he recognized it soon enough. Then followed the next melancholy thought, in the same order as it usually did when he contemplated these things. He hadn't acknowledged his love for Tarrant to himself until shortly after the other man's murder. And now, time and death stood between them, and neither could be conquered by mortal means. Hot tears flowed down his cheeks only to freeze in their motion. Some few were able to traverse the entire distance, though, and fell to the ground like Tarrant's blood every night in his dreams. Hellish patterns of a life destroyed before it could even begin to live again. He barely slept anymore because of these images. And even while they horrified and tortured him, secretly he cherished every second he got to see the man's ghostly white skin again, those shining silver eyes...

Revolted by the turn of his thoughts, Damien refocused on his reason for coming here tonight. He pulled the knife from his belt, knelt down, and laid it in front of the stone. This was a time of the year when loved ones were to be held close, and since death was between him and the one he loved, Damien had chosen to eradicate this obstacle. _Anything, anything to stop this pain, Lord. I can't fight this enemy. It isn't solid, and it is inside of me, __**part of me**__. There's no defense I can work, no plan I can create, no escape, except to follow him._ Working up his courage, he reached out his arm and again caressed the chill stone. He closed his eyes in memory and thought of the very few times when he had actually touched the Hunter. He smiled as he remembered his initial confusion when he had wanted to let his hand linger once. He had thought then that it was the evil pull of the Hunter's spirit that had caused it, just as the Forest drew the fae within itself. He knew better now. He thought of how very brave Gerald was on Mount Shaitan, standing against an immortal demon, knowing that he was about to die. Dying…and for a world that would never acknowledge the sacrifice he had made for them. And he dwelt for a while on all the other instances when the man had shown extraordinary courage. So many times...how had he not recognized the good in him until the end? Damien mentally recited all the little ways in which the Hunter had actively bent the rules of his existence in order to appease Damien, all while masking it behind selfish reasonings. It hurt Damien badly knowing how little appreciation he had shown at the time for these risks.

What wounded the deepest, though, was the fact that Gerald had _made_ him leave him alone in the castle with Andrys. Damien had recognized the Working for what it was immediately after it had severed with Gerald's death. The link between them fell silent. And he knew…and he mourned. Sometimes, when he was very focused, he could almost trick himself into believing he could still feel that link, that Gerald was still out there. But then his rational mind would end the imagined wishes, and he was forced into reality once more. A reality that he no longer felt a part of, nor wanted to be. _Won't be a problem soon, though_, he thought to himself.

He let his hand slide down the side of the stone on its path to pick up the dagger and felt a chip in the surface. _What?_ He had paid a goodly sum for this stone, and it had been perfect when he placed it, so there was no way that chip got there by itself. Leaning to the side, he ran his fingers over the area again to locate the offending spot. He found it a second later, but it wasn't even big enough to see. _More like a scratch than a chip, then,_ he surmised while tracing the mark. But the scratch was irregular, and there seemed to be more of it. Leaning closer, he saw there were many scratches. No, not scratches! Words, writing. It was hard to make out due to the grayish white coloring of the stone, but he finally did get a clear look at the inscription. It was in a strange script, though, and so it just seemed gibberish to him. "Huh?" he said out loud.

Suddenly, from behind and to his left, a voice that could barely be made out said, _Damien_. Did that come from outside or inside his head? Damien whirled about as a shadow separated itself from the trunk of a nearby tree. Thoughts of being attacked fell away in an instant as his numbed mind finally recognized the smooth voice of the issuer, and how it had echoed inside his head as it was spoken. How it echoed in his soul, even now. The shadowed figure slowly made its way over to him, long limbs so graceful in their stride, so familiar in their gait. And as the last bit of distance drained away, the face he had seen in his dreams over and over came into focus, ever as beautiful as he remembered it. Stopping just a foot away, swirling flakes drifting between them, Tarrant spoke again, "No words for an old acquaintance?" And though the voice was casual, Damien could read the tension in the man's frame and recognized the slight tremor in the legs, as if he was physically spent. Though Tarrant had regained the world of the living, he still appeared before Damien as a pale shadow of himself, as though sickened and weak. But alive? _Again_? As all of these things registered, crashed together, and fought for supremacy in Damien's mind, he couldn't think, move, or breathe. He existed in a time outside of this, frozen in the moment. Choking out, "Are you real?" was all he could manage after several seconds of stark raving lunacy ran through his mind.

Tarrant opened his mouth to reply but was suddenly caught up in a crushing hug that knocked everything out of him. Damien's powerful arms encased him in a ring of muscle that was inescapable. "Damn you! _Damn you_, Tarrant. Where have you been? How are you alive? _And What. The. Hell_?!" Damien cried as he held the adept. And then there were no more words as the former knight began to weep. His emotions ran out of him in a bitter-sweet release. But seeing his tears fall onto the adept's silken coat, he pulled back, realizing that the fastidious Tarrant would probably berate him for ruining the material. Also, he was still quite sure that Tarrant was unaware of his feelings for him, and right now he didn't want to do anything to scare him off.

Holding Tarrant by the shoulders and at arm's length, he finally got control of his tears and looked up into the Hunter's gaze. And it seemed to him that there was a hint of something behind those ice cold eyes…perhaps a longing held in check for ages. Blink, and it was gone. _Quit daydreaming damn it_, he berated himself. Tarrant interrupted his internal conversation, "Vryce…Damien. I have much to impart to you, and I find that I lack the strength to speak pieces of it out loud. I am still quite weak, as you can see, and so memories of undue pain tax me more to speak of them out loud," with this he smiled the secret almost-smile that Damien had come to love. "But luckily, because of our previous bonding, I possess other means of conveying information," he finished, and Damien looked confused. The confusion gave way, though, when Tarrant reached up and drew his finger down the side of Vryce's cheek.

Images throttled into his mind as the link between them roared to life again. He watched himself leave Tarrant in the underground room and experienced the guilt that the other man felt in having Worked him to accomplish that. He then saw Karril enact a brilliant display of illusion that misled Andrys and the rest of the congregation into believing the Hunter dead and defeated. After, though, the indomitable will of the Hunter finally gave out, and he collapsed on the floor of the underground room. When the adept had awoken again, he found himself tended to by one of Karril's followers who informed him he had been in a kind of coma-like state for weeks. Karril had insisted it was necessary for full recovery of his newly mortal body. Once awakened, though, he let nothing stop him from readying himself for a journey back toward Jaggonath…to the one person in the world who had ever cared for his immortal soul.

The journey had taken longer than it normally would have, given the state of his health, but step by shaking step, he had made his way back. Damien was brought back to the present by the voice that had haunted his sleep for weeks on end. "It was Karril who told me about this place. That you come at least once a week," Tarrant whispered into the frigid space between them, "I knew I could never go into that city without being recognized, and so I sought alternate means of meeting with you. I have been camping here for the last 5 days waiting for your return. I have used that time wisely, I think. This journey has left me with much opportunity to consider my place in this world…or lack thereof..." he trailed off as his hand fell away from Damien's face. Lines of fire still burned where he had made contact. Not from coldfire now, but the result was the same. It still burned unbearably, and yet Damien ached for it to continue.

"Why are you here?" Damien finally forced himself to ask, trying to cover the pitiful hope in his voice with his customary bluntness. Tarrant replied softly, "I had hoped…I thought…you should know. That I live still. Karril has informed me of the guilt you feel as a result of my Working that day. I had only thought…to ease your troubled soul. I felt it my duty to do so. You deserve better, Vryce. But once again, it has been me that is the cause of your emotional predicament." The adept paused and looked away from Damien, a shadow of what might have been unease crossing his features before he spoke again. "I have been in the darkness for so very long, Vryce. Understand that I chose to send you away because I had thought it a safer course for you. Continued association with me after completing your quest could only hurt you. I had planned for it to be a better parting, but fate presented Andrys before I could accomplish that. I had not planned on it being quite so dramatic, but Karril was a bit carried away at the time. And I was far too weak to protest afterward."

"But I felt you _die_. The bond was broken that day. I _felt you die_!" Damien spoke in angry tones. Tarrant showed his usual impassivity, and replied, "Yes, your own fear and the help of Iezu illusion created just the right combination to block your sensation of our bond. In essence, you fooled yourself." Damn. It all fit, Damien knew, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Here he was, sick and guilt ridden enough to kill himself, and Tarrant was calmly explaining away his fears and actions. The daydreams he'd had of Tarrant being alive were quickly going up in flames. The man didn't seem as though he was aware of anything Damien felt for him. He only seemed a bit physically ill and somewhat annoyed that he'd had to come all this way to perform this _duty_ of his. "Well, I suppose now that your duty has been discharged, you'll be going on to whatever else is _next_ on your agenda," Damien huffed.

Closing the gap between them, Tarrant stepped right up to Vryce and stared him down. Damien began to get chills from the way those silvery eyes were boring into his, weighing his soul in their depths. Then, with an almost-smile, Tarrant replied in a whisper, "Yes. Whatever is next." And then reached out and pulled Damien to him with a ferocity that couldn't be matched upon Earth and Erna. He stopped when he had Vryce's face scant inches from his own, their mingled breath creating clouds of secrets between them. Tarrant's eyes had never left his as the adept said, "Next," and kissed Damien so suddenly that the shock didn't set in for a few precious seconds. And then there was nothing left in the world but the two of them. As far as kisses went, this was by far his most awkward, but also his most pleasurable. Never had Damien desired someone so fiercely. And the knowledge that his desire was apparently mirrored sent his heart soaring. Too soon, the moment was gone as Tarrant leaned out of it and returned to staring into Damien's eyes.

"I've known for a while, you realize," the adept said while holding Damien in his arms. "But I didn't want to hurt you when I was still Contracted. And after…well, things moved too fast to consider much of anything." Glancing at the knife on the ground, Tarrant slowly asked, "Would you truly have done it?" And Damien felt no shame in saying, "Yes. A world without you was not one I wanted a part of. There was nothing there for me. Nothing." Tarrant nodded as if to say he felt the same, and Damien continued, "In fact, I'm glad that graffiti on your headstone caught my attention, because it paused me for long enough to notice you by the tree before I had hurt myself." Tarrant shot a questioning glance at him, "Graffiti? And I would have been able to stop you myself, Damien, have no fear."

Damien disentangled himself from the adept and made his way over to the grave, "Someone defaced your headstone here, see," he said pointing out the rough patch of writing he had felt as he had knelt before the stone earlier. "It has some gibberish scratched into it, but I'm still grateful for it all the same," Damien said. As Tarrant approached, he saw what Damien had indicated and truly did smile now. "Ah, that was me," Tarrant admitted. Damien turned back around to face him, "You defaced your own grave?! My God, man. What was so important that you needed to scrawl on there?" he demanded. Taking a breath, Tarrant explained, "It is written in Latize. A language used by our Terran ancestors for scientific purposes mostly. We only ever had a partial recovery of it, though, so there aren't any complete dictionaries. On the stone, I have inscribed the words 'Not Even Death' as a reminder of a Terran legend I have always been quite fond of."

Always a one for hearing interesting stories, especially ones Earth-based, Damien plied, "Tell me, will you?" Tarrant gave a small smile again, and began, "The Winterfest holiday is based on the timeline of this story, you know? We used to tell it around the table at Winterfest Eve during my mortal lifetime. Long ago on Earth, there was a special man born among them on Winterfest Day. And though he taught and exhibited many wonderful things during his lifetime, the one we remember him for most was his love for his fellow man. Unfortunately, he was betrayed and then brutally killed by those who were jealous of the popularity he had gained among the people of Earth for his teachings. He would not betray his beliefs, though, even unto death. And there was much sadness for three days after his death. But he was resurrected on that third day! And he walked among his people again, performing many miracles, and solidifying the hopes and dreams of thousands. His love was so great for his fellow man that he had given all for them. And in the end, not even death could keep him from them. Not even death." Tarrant finished the last line with a whisper.

Damien was fascinated. What an amazing story to have survived so long. He wondered if it was true? On a world with no magic, how was resurrection then possible? His thoughts continued streaming through him until he realized Tarrant had pulled him close again. _There_ was the intensity he had known in the Hunter! It took his breath away to be able to finally be close to Gerald in this way. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment and hoping that they would never become lost to each other again. It must have echoed across their bond, because Tarrant leaned in and gave a soft kiss, his lips barely brushing the former knight's. When their eyes met again, Tarrant reached down and squeezed Damien's hand in his own before saying, "Worry not, my Damien. Nothing will part us now, and nothing has been able to…not even death."

End Note: Hope you enjoyed my little fluffy Christmas tale. I went back and forth on the ideas for this one, but thank God I finally settled. It was getting crazy trying to pin down all those damn ideas. Anyways, Merry Christmas everybody! Or whatever holiday you celebrate at this time of year!


End file.
